Letting Go
by YackAttack
Summary: "Who is death? Death isn't a person it can't just come and grab you," I said. "I'm personifying it. Her. Him. Whoever death is. When I meet whoever it is, I'm sure I'll be ready. And I wasn't ready yet last night. I wasn't ready to let go of you." Eddie told me. As Eddie's cancer gets worse, Patricia tries to preserve the time left. Inspired by the Fault in Our Stars.


**Author's Note: This is something I wrote a while back after I'd read The Fault in Our Stars. It's a little confusing because it's supposed to be somewhat of a journal, and the end I will explain because I know people won't entirely understand. I'm prepared for negative feed back, I know how risky this is.**

**People write a lot of death fics and this one certainly isn't the best, it's more to make you think. So, you know, think about how lucky you are to have life and not have to be so worried about death coming to grab you.**

**I don't talk too much about the cancer aspect, so don't pay attention to what's medical about it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HOA.**

* * *

I hate stories. They always have the same format. Well, not this one. I'm going to tell this story completely out of order. And the weirdest part? It isn't even my story. It's Eddie's.

When I first went to the doctors with him, they told us "Lots of people have cancer. It's common. It hardly ever kills you. The survival rate is very high."

Ya right. The survival rate means nothing. You could survive, you could die, and the survival rate determines none of that. Eddie wasn't lucky enough to be part of the survival rate. He instead was added to the other smaller percentage of people. What are they called? The death rate.

Eddie's death was and always will be the hardest thing I've ever gone through. He was 17. I was only 16.

I find myself using past tense I lot more. Once Eddie died, I stopped counting time. In my mind, I'm still 16. If Eddie would never age again, then neither will I. Holidays pass, other people's birthdays too. But on my birthday, I make sure to hide away. Even more than normal. I don't want anyone to know. I don't want it to be my birthday. That just means I'm a day closer to death. I'm always a day closer to death. And I can't fucking wait. I hope it takes me soon, but deep down I know that I'll be here many more years, suffering. No, normal humans don't act like this. I know that. But do you actually expect me to be mentally stable after the death of the only person who I've ever truly loved? The only person who cared about me? The person there for me through thick and thin?

That's what my parents thought. That's what Trudy thought. But after what seemed to be a long period of time (the doctors said 3 years), I still didn't talk. They got really concerned. I don't know what I've been diagnosed with. I blocked my ears when they told me. All I know is that I'm in a mental hospital, and l'm writing this for Eddie. Not for you. I want him to be remembered the right way.

"Eddie," I said, clutching my hands. "Don't worry. You'll be alright." Eddie stayed silent. His eyes were red and blotchy because he'd been crying for a while now. Tears dripped down my cheeks slowly. "Don't think about it. Lets go do something fun. Nothing's wrong. Everything's-normal."

"Are you insane? I just found out I could potentially die," Eddie snapped.

I immediately shut up, finding myself in a world of pain as well. Eddie could die. In the next 1-8 months, anytime between then, he could die. Leave me completely. Forever.

"You aren't going to-" but I stopped myself. We didn't know he would live for sure. And I didn't want to be an annoying optimist.

"Exactly, you KNOW time's running out for me."

And then I whimpered, burying my head in my knees.

* * *

But then I dropped the journal.

Tears were forming in my eyes. I couldn't keep writing. I couldn't keep going. I wasn't going to cry again. I couldn't relive this. It wouldn't help.

"I'M DONE," I screamed at the nurse, who was taken aback.

And then they went on and on about "Oh how great it was I spoke." They didn't get the point. They stationed me back I front of the journal, insisting it was working. They told me to keep writing. They're all dead to me.

* * *

Hearing my whimper made Eddie's senses pick up. His protective instinct was still with him. If I only had known that my whimpering and crying was making it worse.

"Yacker, please don't cry," Eddie begged, wrapping his arms around me.

"I can't help it," I moaned. "I am so sorry."

"Don't apologize, it isn't your fault," Eddie said, kissing my forehead.

His first major pain was a few nights later. Fabian texted me to come downstairs immediately.

When I got into the room, Trudy was already in there taking his temperature. It was already at 102 degrees (**Fahrenheit I apologize for not knowing Celsius**) and quickly rising. I wrapped my arms around Eddie's neck and held him close to me, trying to whisper comforting things to him. He just kept on freaking out and crying, heaving deeper breaths every time.

"Eddie it's ok," I tried. I had no idea how to console someone. Not someone with cancer, not even someone normal.

The paramedics came quickly, but Eddie's screaming got increasingly louder, showing how his pain progressed. They loaded him onto the stretcher, my hand never leaving his.

"Trudy, please let me come to the hospital!" I begged.

"I'm sorry Patricia, but just go back to bed. You can visit him tomorrow," Trudy said, leaving with Eddie.

I don't quite remember what happened next, but I do know I started screaming and crying. I remember Joy trying to hug me and calm me down, as well as all the other housemates. I remember Jerome offering to drive me to the hospital, and me hugging him gratefully as I accepted the offer.

Jerome and I stayed at the hospital almost all night, waiting for the doctors to let us in.

"Jerome," I asked him sleepily. "Why are you still here? Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because you're my little sister, and I love you," he said, looking into my eyes. "I know how you feel about Eddie, and I just want you to be happy."

I laid my head on his shoulder, mumbling "Thank you," as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to Jerome shaking me happily, telling me the news that Eddie was ok. His pain had gone down and he was calm again.

Jerome let me go in and see Eddie by myself, because he figured that's what I would've wanted.

Eddie lie in his hospital bed with tired eyes, but they brightened up the second he saw me.

"Yacker," he said, reaching his hand out to me. I took his hand, sitting on his bed. "You came. Trudy said you wouldn't be here till this afternoon."

"Jerome drove me here. I couldn't wait that long. Are you alright? What happened?"

"I wish I could tell you. I'm on an insane amount of drugs at the moment," Eddie said.

"I was SO worried," I admitted.

"Don't worry. I'm here ok? If death was going to take me, I'm sure it would at least make me suffer a little longer," Eddie joked.

"Don't say stuff like that."

"Like what?"

"About 'death' taking you. Who is death? Death isn't a person it can't just come and grab you," I said.

"I'm personifying it. Her. Him. Whoever death is. When I meet whoever it is, I'm sure I'll be ready. And I wasn't ready yet last night. I wasn't ready to let go of you."

"When will you be ready to let to of me?" I asked, scared to hear the answer.

"I hope never."

It was later on that Eddie told me just how often he thought about death. Apparently after they told him there was a chance it could happen, he came up with all sorts of theories about how he'd go.

"I'll just be in the middle of class, and suddenly, I'll drop onto the floor," he explained.

"That's hardly possible. You wouldn't just drop dead," I said. "You aren't going to just die."

"What if that's when I'm ready to let go? What if death needs me in the middle of class? Am I supposed to just not go?"

"Stop making death a person!" I snapped. "Death doesn't need you. You're 17. You have another 65 years at least to be alive."

"I only have another 2-8 months actually," he corrected.

I couldn't look at him. He was convinced of his death already. He was telling me that he was just giving up. Convinced that though the survival rate was high, he was already gone.

And that conversation lead me to Mr. Sweet's office. I needed to talk to someone who understood. He must've understood.

He poured me a cup of tea, welcoming me in kindly. He at first tried to change the subject from Eddie, which proved to me he was equally worried.

"I've been thinking of pulling Edison from the school," he admitted to me after a while.

"No, please don't. That won't help. He wants to spend his last days here," I said.

"No one said he's going to die," Mr. Sweet corrected.

"He thinks he is. He wants to spend what he thinks are his last days here," I corrected. There was a long pause."What if -what if they are his last?"

"Patricia-"

"I'm serious. What if the cancer does take out all his good cells? That's what they said it would do. What if it's happening?!" I said, starting to panic.

"It is happening Ms. Williamson. The doctors told us so. But as long as he keeps taking his medication-"

"The medication kills his cells too! It's drugs!"

"Alcohol. Alcohol kills brain cells. Drugs just poison them," Mr. Sweet stated.

"I don't give a damn what kills what. Eddie's dying. He knows it, I know it, and deep down you know it too. And both of us, all three of us are just sitting here allowing it to happen. Anytime within the next 2-8 months we could lose him."

Sweetie kicked me out of his office, very upset. I could hear him crying as I walked back to the house. But I'm glad we had that conversation. It reminded me to make the most of the rest of Eddie's days with me.

"A bucket list?" Eddie asked me when I first brought it up to him. "Really? That's so cliche."

"You must've made one once," I insisted.

"Ya when I was like 8."

"Well, where is it?" I asked.

"I don't know. Probably in America."

So I made it my mission to contact Ms. Miller and find the bucket list. Needless to say, it was a heartbreaking experience to read.

**-Get a dog**

**-Get a dad**

**-Find out where daddy went**

**-Fall in love with a pretty girl**

**-Get married**

**-Be a good dad**

I was pretty sure Eddie was younger than eight when he wrote this, but I wasn't going to say anything.

"I was forced to write that in school. I just wanted the teachers to feel bad for me," Eddie said when I showed it to him

"Be a good dad? Because your dad wasn't?"

"Stop. It was all fake anyway," Eddie said, shaking his head. I could see tears starting to form at the rim of his eyes. "I'll never even have a kid of my own."

"Don't say that," I protested.

"I have 8 months maximum and it takes 9 months to have a baby, smarty pants."

"If you make it-"

"Patricia, I feel worse everyday. I'm not going to make it," Eddie said.

"Can we please just-"

"Pretend? Ya let's pretend."

"Pretend what?" I asked.

"That we'll be together forever," Eddie said, taking my hand.

"I love you," I blurted.

"What?"

"I said I love you. I can't let you go without knowing that. I've been in love with you since the summer, but I thought you didn't love me. But, I'm convinced you do now."

He looked into my eyes, and smiled bigger than I've ever seen him smile before.

"I've loved you since the first time we touched. I remember my dad told me, when I was young, that if you ever meet a girl that gives you a feeling of magic when you kiss, then you should never leave her. I didn't even need to kiss you to feel magic between us," Eddie said. "I never have to go through any other hopeless relationships with stupid girls, because I've already found the person for me. I'm convinced of it."

* * *

This was the second time I dropped this journal, and I practically punched the nurse in the face when she tried to give it back to me. But nevertheless, I'm still here, still writing.

* * *

Eddie never did get to finish is bucket list. We never got married, or had any children.

On the last day Eddie was strong enough, we went to sit in the Frobisher library together. That was where he wanted to go and "remember."

"I remember the first time I came in here. The night of the ball. The first moment I fell in love with you. This place is where some of the most important moments of my life happened," Eddie said, crying but smiling.

I knew Eddie was dying. He'd already been to the hospital 4 more times, and the last time they told me that he was taking a turn for the worse. His cancer had taken the majority of his energy away and his cells were slowing decaying. It had only taken 4 months. 4 months to take an American boy's life.

"Yacker," Eddie said, taking my hand. "I want us to be married when I die,"

"What?"

"I want to elope. Now. Before I have no strength."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I told him.

I expected Eddie to react calmly and to protest. But instead he began to throw a full out tantrum.

"Why?! Wait- don't answer that. Because I'm too weak isn't it? I'M NOT TOO WEAK. I'm still here! You can't act like I'm gone! Ever since we went to the doctors the first time, you haven't teased me, haven't called me any nicknames or ANYTHING. And it's not just you. Everyone else too. You under estimate me! EVERYONE DOES!"

"Calm down!" I begged.

"No. I'm letting go."

"EDDIE-"

"No! I'm done-"

"EDDIE STOP. Don't let go. Not yet. I'm so in love with you. And if you leave me I'll have nothing. The only reason I treat you differently is because I'm trying to keep you healthy. ONCE I LOSE YOU I DONT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO ME. I CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT WILL HAPPEN," I screamed. Eddie didn't know what to say. I knew we felt the same now. We were losing each other. I didn't know why I was so angry. I didn't know how to explain it. I think I was angry with death. Death was may have been taking Eddie's life, but it was ruining mine. "Don't let me lose you," I begged.

"Never, you'll never truly lose me," Eddie said.

After we kissed for almost an hour, I pulled apart from Eddie finally knowing what I wanted.

"Hey doofus... What do you say we pretend get married?"

"Pretend?"

"Let's get a wedding cake, throw it at each other and call it marriage?" I suggested.

Eddie looked down and smiled.

"I think we both know I don't have the strength for that," Eddie admitted.

"But you just-"

"I know, but I was wrong. I over estimate myself. Give it a week, I'll be gone."

Everything suddenly became so real to me. Eddie was going to die. Any moment now.

* * *

As I write this, I can barely breathe I'm crying so hard. I know death is closing in on me. I just know it. This journal is killing me. Killing me softly and slowly. Through suffering.

* * *

Eddie died 2 nights later. Sweetie wanted to take him to the hospital, but I protested, saying that Eddie would want his last moments to be here. Not there.

Eddie couldn't even open his eyes. He could barely speak any longer, all he did was moan. He was trying to tell me something. I knew he was trying to tell me something of some sort.

"Eddie," I said, between sobs. "Let go. It's time. It's here. Death is here."

Eddie's hand started to feel around and I knew it was trying to find mine. I ignored his hand and went straight for his cheek, stoking it comfortingly, making him stop squirming.

For a moment- I just thought- maybe that magic could save him. The magic when we touched. But, I had to stop crying. My tears were torturing him. I had to be strong. I inhaled I deep breath and kissed his lips softly.

"I love you," I said, brushing the hair out of his face. And in what seemed like an instant, he took his very last breath.

* * *

"I'm finished," I say to the nurse, closing my journal.

"Finished?" she asks me.

"I want to be with Eddie now," I tell her, causing her face to turn to confusion. She babbles on about how I don't know what I'm talking about and how Eddie's gone, like I'm stupid. I know Eddie's gone. I just wrote a god damn journal about it. "Get my coat. I'm going to the cemetery."

* * *

**Patricia Williamson**

**May 27, 1997-May 27, 2017**

**Cause of death: hypothermia**

* * *

**Authors Note: Confused? Basically, she went to Eddie's grave and froze to death, because she refused to go back to the mental hospital where she was. She died by his side (the side of his grave).**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**


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